


A Kind of Immortality

by nonky



Category: Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Prompt by daria234 at LJ: Being Human US, nonvamp!Aidan/nonvamp!Bishop, anyWarning: Drug use and non-graphic slash, because Aidan and Bishop may be human, but they're still addicts.





	A Kind of Immortality

Aidan tried to go straight, and it nearly killed him. He left Bishop everything; the phone that they only ever used to call dealers, the wads of grubby cash, and the kit with charred bottle caps, bleach bottle and syringe.

He cleaned the syringe for Bishop before he left, because he still cared. He shared with the older man, because it would be prissy to balk at that. Aidan took his tight jeans and t-shirts, stuffed in a backpack. He didn't take the off-duty car Bishop bought for him to use, or the credit cards.

He haunted coffee shops that didn't close, and rented an hour at a hotel to shower. The hospital believed Bishop's fabricated life story that showed Aidan as a smart, unlucky foster kid who had unfortunately not been able to afford college. The fictional version could pass security checks easily. They hired him to mop piss, but the real job perk was access to rooms and rooms full of magical drugs. He could be high or low, mellow or wired. Given the run of his new workplace, Aidan could have foregone food entirely and just lived on the various pills.

He chose not to take the good stuff, but he took just enough methadone to keep clean. It was easier to steal. He wanted to pull out his own teeth most days just to make them stop grinding in his skull. Aidan was getting skinny and angry, and he needed the methadone more than oxygen.

He was surprised that the drugs wore off faster than Bishop's touch. It was lonely, and he hadn't dared contact any of his old friends - he'd met them all through Bishop anyway, and he'd betrayed his lover. It hardly seemed right to go crying to them now.

A young doctor, Josh, said hello sometimes. Aidan joked with him in the elevator because the kid seemed like the only person working there more twitchy than he was. The guy seemed like a genius but he was obviously drowning in his new role. Aidan tried to encourage Josh when he was down on himself, but he didn't know how well he did with it.

When Josh was left in the lurch by his girlfriend moving out, Aidan saw a future shining like a fairy tale right in front of him. He could be someone again. Josh was a spectacularly forgiving, understanding person. He was a doctor and would help Aidan cover up the little things that marked him as a junkie to anyone bothering to notice. He could move in, teach Josh how to have a life, and somewhere in the pretense of being friends with a real person Aidan would be that, too.

He had half a year living in Josh's spare room, writing rent checks and smiling at the neighbours before Bishop arrived. It was never a question of being lost forever, and there was as much relief rushing through Aidan's veins as there was fear. A broad, pale hand pushed a cup of coffee in front of him, and Aidan took it because he had taken everything Bishop put in front of him.

“How have you been, Aidan,” he asked, eyes lingering on the gaunt cheekbones and dark circles.

“I can't come back or I'll . . . end up doing just the same as before,” Aidan said hoarsely. “I really want to go clean, and I've been doing well.”

Bishop's smile was two parts understanding, one part rage. Aidan could tell he was supposed to have floundered and come crawling back, but Bishop had gotten impatient. Maybe he thought something more of moving in with Josh than there was, or maybe he just felt as lonely as Aidan did.

“I've been worried about you. You know you can come back any time,” Bishop told him. “Everything is just the way you left it, and I'd be so happy if you came home.”

Under layers and layers of freshly-scrubbed sobriety, Aidan was still a homeless street hustler giving it up for a hit. Bishop was still a dirty cop who'd found him and stroked his greasy face gently instead of arresting him for possession. Their twisted little living arrangement had worked for years, Aidan acting as in-house dealer and bed warmer. From what he'd heard, Bishop was well on his way to securing whole territories in the city as his customer base. He'd given Aidan an allowance of hits, just enough to maintain without escalating. He'd managed the young man's willpower like training a dog, alternating love with quick flashes of menace.

“I just want a fair chance at a normal life,” Aidan said plainly. “And I can't do that with you.”


End file.
